Only the Young
by Marauder and The Q
Summary: In the midst of the Vietnam War, Sodapop Curtis writes a letter home. Or does he? Maybe some things are best left unsaid. Oneshot. Dedicated to Queen Jane and Hahukum Konn. Why? Because.


Credit for the summary goes to the excellent Hahukum Konn. Thank you.

This one-shot ties into Queen Jane Approximately's story _Don't Think Twice, It's All Right_, which you should read if you haven't yet.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Any criticism or nitpicks -- send them my way, please.

* * *

**Only the Young**

_Dear Darry, _

It's hot. I know I've said it before, but it's all I can think right now. That's not so bad, I guess. I could be thinking other things, and I really don't wanna be thinking those. So I'll just say it's hot, and you'll read this and try to grin, even though it's not really funny. Promise me you'll smile? I bet you don't smile enough.

We agreed before I left that you wouldn't press me to tell you anything I didn't think you should know, but I know the not knowing is killing -- no, not killing -- making you crazy. You say you can handle it. Can you?

Yesterday we lit a village on fire. The day before, a guy I was in boot camp with, Amos, and a few other guys, got wasted by a bunch of cheap-made grenades thrown by a couple of lousy kids. Kids, Darry. They was from the village we torched. The day before that a guy named Wilson put a bullet in his own foot and got some other guys to swear it was the VC, so he could get out of here. We don't blame him, though -- not all the guys who do that are going as crazy as he was, and he _was__ going crazy, honest to God. That's why we covered for him. _

Tomorrow don't look much more promising. We're supposed to be humping all the way up a blasted mountain. I don't imagine there'll exactly be a surprise party waiting once we get there -- or maybe just not the kind of surprise we want. Steve thinks they should just send an air strike up there and be done with it -- he says it won't make no difference, except our lives. But I don't know what's up there, so I ain't really gonna pass judgment and pretend like I know what's best. I don't really know anything anymore. Seems like all I know at the moment is how to care for my weapon, how to wire a Claymore, how to dismantle and rebuild an engine, and how to bake a chocolate cake. And that it's hot. That's five things, Darry. Feels like that's all I know anymore. I can't concentrate on any more, or else I may explode. I don't like talking about explosions, though. You can guess why.

You know what I should know? I should know how tall my baby brother has gotten. I should know the sound of his voice, but you said it's gotten deeper since I've been gone. Seems like I ain't been gone _that__ long, but it don't feel out of the realm of possibility now. I should know which boy is sweet on my sister so me and Steve can keep an eye on him. I should know how much sleep you're getting, or if you've been too busy working and worrying yourself sick to rest. I should know why I'm here. _

But I don't.

And now it's raining. That's just fucking great. I should have seen that coming. It's like every time I turn around I'm getting walloped in the head with a huge drop of rain. I hope it don't last too long. I haven't been feeling so hot lately, the last thing I wanna do is soak in the mud while I sleep. Again. Then I'll get sick for sure.

I don't want to talk about that no more.

I know you're getting my income from the Army, but I'm just a PFC, and that ain't much. How many extra hours did you pick up just to cover for me? I was afraid to ask at first, but I gotta know. It's been eating at me.

Is Pony gonna have to get a job yet? You told me you wouldn't let him until you were that bad off. I hate to say it, but I think you should let him help out now, before you get in too deep. Your savings is gonna be all gone soon enough, and I know you'd never dip into Pony's college fund, or El's. You're smart, Darry. You know the score. I know he wants to help. Let him help. I may have failed math, but I know that two part-time jobs are better than one part-time job, and with Pony and El, that makes two.

I bet Eleanor's having a grand old time at the beauty parlor. She always did dig messing with her hair -- of course she'd love the chance to mess with everyone else's.

You know what's surprising? Two-Bit writes us pretty regular. He keeps us up on the score. The three of us kind of figured he wouldn't write much, but he proved us -- and, hell, himself -- wrong. I'm real glad. I always smile when I see one of his letters. A genuine smile. Trust me, that's saying something. Even Steve seems more like himself then.

Steve doesn't much like writing letters, so I'd hazard a guess he hasn't told you much. But there's some stuff I don't think I should keep to myself, and I don't know if I'll be able to get it out again if I don't tell you now. I'll say it plain. Drugs are real easy to come by here. He hasn't said anything about it yet, but I know he's been getting into them. Darry, you have no idea how bad I was scared when I first suspected. Them guys who get high before we get moving tend to end up getting scraped off the ground at the end of the day. Steve knows it, too. I'm real scared for him. That shit messes you up, especially if you get hooked. He's all I got here. If something happens to him ...

Look, maybe when I get back things can go back to normal. But I know I can't keep dreaming about that, pretending we'll all be happy and fine and whole again, if I don't at least have Steve. You can understand that, can't you?

Glory, I guess it's all just pouring out of me now. I hope you're sitting.

I almost tripped a booby trap this morning. I felt so stupid and panicked. I was _this close__ to it. I took the opportunity to say to Steve, "See? If I'd been high, I never woulda stepped back in time." He walked away. He's never walked away from me like that before. _

I wasn't gonna tell you that, and I definitely ain't gonna tell Pony or El about it. Sorry if I scared you.

Who am I kidding? I know I scared you. Breathe, man. Take a deep breath. It's alright. I'm alright. I _did __step back. _

It's quiet. I know I never liked quiet before, but I really don't like it now. Before I got antsy. Now I get anxious. It's a heavy kind of quiet. I can't stand it any more. I'm gonna go talk to Steve.

I hope you meant what you said, Darry. I hope you can handle it. At least better than me. Don't worry. Next time I'll just tell you about something decent, like how I won eight cigarettes and two C-ration cans in a poker game a few hours ago. Like how we've been keeping an eye on some local kids who seem to be on our side. We've been teaching a few how to read. Our teaching tools are skin mags, sure, but they got words enough. The kids have been riveted.

Don't worry. Next time will be fake, just like I want it to be.

Your brother,

Sodapop Curtis 

---

I smoothed out the paper from where it had gotten messed up as I wrote. The creases reminded me of Darry. How many new worry lines have found their way onto his face since I've been gone? That ain't right. He's too damn young for that.

I made myself re-read what I had written. I didn't like what I saw.

After a minute or two of thinking about it, I set the letter down and started rummaging through my things for an envelope. I finally gave it up for a lost cause and was about to ask Steve for one, 'til something caught my eye.

_Don't worry. _

Don't worry.

Don't worry. 

I could hear myself saying it over and over. How many times did I tell him not to worry? If I'm saying it that much, maybe I should just go all out and not give him any cause to worry.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back onto my shoulders.

My mind was made up.

I crumpled the letter into a ball, pulled my Zippo out of my pocket, and lit the paper, then dropped it by my boot-covered foot. I watched it burn and wished I could remember what I had said that sealed that damn letter's fate -- no pun intended. I was getting scatterbrained like that lately. But I knew I'd said too much; I couldn't send it. It would be stupid to. They didn't need to know. They didn't _want _to know. Not really.

Neither did I, but I guess I'm stuck knowing. And I think the knowing may just be the hardest part.

* * *


End file.
